No Amount of Sound
by bicyclesarecool
Summary: Head of promotions at a small Seattle radio station, Edward Cullen hesitates to think that he'd much rather just be dead-until his new intern, Bella Swan, makes him second guess himself. Learning to move on, learning to breathe, and maybe a little bit of falling in love. au/ah/ooc. m for language. one shot.


**hiiiiii so i wrote a oneshot and here it is. thank you thank you thank you to those who looked over parts of it, especially to SunflowerFran for doing such great work on the final product.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **"no amount of sound"**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

As soon Edward gets to work on Monday morning, he already wants to go home. Well, not home, necessarily because his roommate is at work and the house is too empty and quiet. It makes Edward nervous, he can't stand the quiet and he can't stand being alone. This is why a career in radio made the most sense to him.

But anyway, Edward doesn't want to go to work and he doesn't want to go home. He'd really rather just not be anywhere at all anymore—no anxiousness or emptiness or tiredness. Just nothing at all.

He hesitates to think that he'd much rather just be dead.

Edward shakes the thought out of his mind as he reaches the station. It's a converted house built in the early 20th century, down by the Sound in Seattle. A 104.3 sticker is peeling off the front doorand Edward runs his finger over the loose edge in a half-hearted attempt to make it right. It sticks for just a moment before sagging again. The sight of it makes his mood somehow worse.

Inside, it's noisy, _The Vaccines_ blasting over the speakers while he hears someone yelling over the music further down the hallway. Edward nods at the girl at the front desk, some high schooler there on an internship for the last couple of weeks of the summer.

" _That was_ Dream Lover _by_ The Vaccines _; you're less than five minutes away from the new Circa Waves track. Keep it here on 104.3, Seattle's only independent alternative station_."

Edward gets to the studio right as Alice finishes her speech and her voice fades into a commercial jingle about tires.

"Hey," he says, setting his backpack down. He always carries it with him, but right now, it only has a flash drive and oversized headphones inside.

"How's it goin'?" she smiles brightly at him. Alice is in charge of the morning show and has been here since five. It's just after eight thirty now and she won't leave until well after two. Alice is a hard worker and all of the listeners love her. She's got full sleeves of flower tattoos on both arms and her long, dark hair is always twisted on top of her head. She looks like she belongs in a garden instead of the dimly lit studio, a coffee bigger than her head sitting next to her.

"Fine, how are you?" Edward says. Alice fights back the urge to comment that he _always_ says he's fine. He'd been here a couple of years, fresh out of college and Alice thinks he has a lot of potential. He's always on time and can be very friendly and charming if he needs to be. She's been telling him for years he has the perfect voice for radio and he was always coming to her with new music to check out, but whenever she broaches the topic of him being a jock, he always shrugs it off. He claims he's happy right where he is—head of promotions and in charge of two, typically annoying interns.

"I'm great," Alice, tells him and she wishes he would smile more. "Today is Mike and Angela's last day."

Her news makes a little, lopsided smirk find its way onto his face. Edward doesn't mind Angela, she's nice and does good work, but she isn't anything special. Mike, on the other hand, is the bane of Edward's existence. He's always late and is always forgetting something—the flyers to hand out, the extra pack of stickers, his shoes, et cetera.

"I thought that would please you," Alice says. "Next batch will be in tomorrow morning."

Edward nods as she slides her hand up the board in front of her, the commercials fading smoothly into _My Love_.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The next morning, Edward counts the number of red lights he stops at as he makes his way to the station. He listens to whatever Alice is spinning on the radio and contemplates how badly it would hurt to just drift into the intersection and be slammed on both sides by those in a hurry to get somewhere. He tries to imagine the sound of metal crunching around him and the smell of rubber burning, but it makes him tired. Instead, he counts red lights. A total of six opportunities to die. He's the closest to actually doing it on the sixth one, but Alice's voice floats through his speakers, updating him on the traffic and the weather. He remembers the interns and sighs, knowing that if he dies today, then Emmett is going to have to be the one to get them oriented.

That would be a complete and total disaster.

When he pulls into the parking lot, he notes a car he doesn't recognize—a blue Honda that looks like a brand new model.

It must be an intern, but since it's such a nice looking car, he can't help the dread that creeps into his stomach as he imagines having to deal with another entitled rich kid. He's had enough of that.

Inside, Alice is talking to a tall, gangly boy wearing a striped t-shirt and a nervous expression.

"Here he is," Alice says, motioning towards Edward. The boy holds out a clammy hand and Edward shakes it, trying to make himself smile. Alice watches him carefully.

"I'm Edward," he says, his voice gruff from not using it since yesterday evening. He had spent his night alone in his room; his roommate was working a late shift. They haven't crossed paths in two days.

"Ben Cheney," he says and after their handshake, Edward has to resist the urge to wipe his hand on his jeans.

"The other intern should be here…" Alice trails off, looking down at her clipboard. "Bella Swan?" She looks at Ben as if he can confirm this, but he shrugs. Edward scrubs a hand over his face and at the same time, the front door swings open.

A girl who Edward assumes is Bella Swan is suddenly inside, nearly tripping over the doorjamb.

"I'm so, so, so, sorry I'm late," she breathes, her voice high and clear. "I didn't realize this place was so far from the bus stop."

"You took a bus here?" Alice asks, as her eyebrows rise. Alice and Edward know that if she's coming from the University, it's an hour ride at least.

"I don't have a car," the girl shrugs like it isn't a big deal. Alice continues her staring while Edward yawns.

"I'm Bella," she says, holding out her hand to Alice. "Bella Swan."

They shake hands and Alice introduces herself. Bella smiles widely at her, as if they're good, old friends.

"Edward Cullen," Edward says, moving to do the same. Her hand connects with his, small fingers wrapping around his palm and he's surprised not only by how warm her hand is, but also by how firmly she shakes his.

"I'll leave you to it," Alice says, breezing her way down the hallway to her studio.

"Well, if you guys want to follow me, we'll start in my office and go over a few things," Edward says casually and he tries not to stare at the way Bella's cheeks are blooming red and how long her eyelashes are as they shift to her shoes.

Edward Cullen's office is a form of controlled chaos. His desk takes up a lot of space and he tosses his bag on top of it, a few drafts for some flyers fluttering to the ground. He gestures to a small, beat-up futon set up across the room and the interns take a seat. Edward notices the way that Bella makes herself seem smaller as she sits. Ben stretches out and they make a stark contrast. Bella's eyes wander the titles of the cassette tapes on Edward's shelf as Ben taps his fingers on his knee.

Edward clears his throat and both interns turn their attention to him.

"So, as promotions director, I'm in charge of setting up and coordinating promotions and marketing events. As interns, you'll be helping me. We go to shows to pass out flyers; we work promotional booths at festivals. We'll drive around in the 104.3 ice cream truck," Edward says. He's given this speech so many times; it's almost second nature to him. He watches the way Ben's eyebrows pull up anxiously as he lists responsibilities. Bella's mouth looks as if she's trying very hard not to smile. Edward wishes that she would.

"Let's go on a quick tour," he says and they follow him into the hallway. As they go through the station, Edward asks his usual questions.

 _Where do you go to school?_

Both interns say the University of Washington, but he notices Bella's brief hesitation.

 _What are you studying?_

"Communications," Ben says and Edward nods. Most of his interns are. He looks at Bella expectantly.

"Um, music business right now." Edward takes note of her uncertainty but doesn't ask why it's there. He isn't one to pry.

 _What do you hope to gain from this internship?_

"Experience," Ben says, his confidence growing with every answer.

"I don't really want to gain anything—I just want to contribute; to something good," she says and her answer is vague and Edward sees the way Ben stands up straighter, believing his answers show that he is far more capable than her. What Ben fails to notice is the emotion in Bella's voice, the way its clearness starts to become foggy and her eyes seem very sincere and just a little distant.

It takes Edward a beat to move forward, to stop at Alice's sunny yellow office before moving on to Emmett's. It smells like old pizza and he always has punk music playing through the speakers on his desk, even when he isn't there. He tells everyone that he wants the room to have its own presence. Edward shares this with the interns and watches the way Bella's smile doesn't quite reach her eyes.

He notices a lot of Bella today, far more than he's comfortable with and surely far more than she is.

When the tour ends, they go over upcoming events. He explains the promotions work on social media, and the shows with which he'll need help.

When he dismisses them, Ben packs up his stuff and says thank you, making his way out while Bella remains, again looking at his tapes. She blinks suddenly as if she's forgotten where she is and starts to head to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asks softly, her delicate hand resting on the frame and her long, dark hair swinging over her shoulder.

"See you tomorrow," Edward says and he doesn't move from his spot until he hears her footsteps fade and the front door slam.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Okay, Ben, you're going to be in charge of the social media for this trip," Edward says, handing Ben the promotions tablet. "Your job is to update Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram from the 104.3 accounts and let them know exactly where we are and exactly why they should come find us."

"First two people here get free tickets to the _Carousel_ show tonight, right?" Ben asks double-checking. Edward likes that about him—he's always making sure he has a solid grasp on what he needs to do.

"Yes. And Bella," he begins, turning to her to find her staring expectantly at him. "You're on ice cream duty."

"The best job of all," she deadpans and Edward can only look at her with a vaguely amused expression. In the week that she's been there, he's come to be amused by her a lot. It's mostly her laugh—the way she always seems surprised to hear the sound bubbling from her mouth. But there was also the way she argued with Emmett when he tried to convince her that a medium would be way too big on her when he was passing out event staff shirts.

"It's going to be huge on you," he had said while she stood with her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

"I know what I'm about, Mr. McCarty," she said clearly. Edward couldn't stop his laugh, and now, looking at her in her way-too-big 104.3 shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted shorts, his chest swells a little bit with…something. She has a way about her that he's still trying to get used to. Bella Swan is small, curvy and unassuming. He's never heard her talk badly about anyone or anything (except for her distaste for the city bus) and she almost seems as if she's made of the same stuff as stars. He feels the urge to protect her, this small, fragile sun. He beyond knows that she needs no protection—she isn't afraid to stand up for herself, to be quick with a snarky comment.

But still.

While Edward drives the ice cream truck covered in 104.3 stickers down the street, he doesn't count red lights. He doesn't hope he gets crushed between hot metal. He doesn't think about driving straight off a bridge into the sound.

Because of Bella Swan.

He could never be responsible for putting that light out, to deprive the rest of the world of her—a girl who is commenting on how green the leaves of the trees are while Edward is imagining how many aspirin it would take to kill him.

At their first stop, he tries to push those thoughts out of his mind; he focuses on Bella's clear voice as she greets businessmen on their lunch break. They take their free ice cream from her; they stare at the way her cheeks turn pink when they ask how her day is going. Edward stares at them staring, fiddling with the speakers, listening for Emmett's next spin. Ben takes pictures of people and of the truck and he's busy posting them everywhere he can. He's already handed out the two pairs of tickets for this location and he's busy updating the rest of the city on where to find them next.

They start their drive down to a park on the waterfront. It's still warm out, late summer lingering in the air, so there are plenty of people lounging around and the first one to the truck is a stocky boy wearing a faded _Pink Floyd_ t-shirt. As Ben hands him the free pair of tickets, he turns his attention to Bella.

"Any chance you'd wanna go with me?" he says smoothly and Edward has to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh, um, that's okay, take one of your friends," she says, a slight waver to her voice.

"It's going to be a good show, I've seen them a bunch of times. I'd buy you dinner beforehand." He's persistent and his voice is a little too forceful.

"Really, I don't know the band that well, I'm sure you have friends that would enjoy it more."

"I'm not so sure," he says and Edward sees how she rolls her eyes at the man.

"I said no," she tells him and though her voice is steadier, her hands shake as she hands him an ice cream cone.

Even after he gives up and disappears, there's a tremor in her hands so noticeable that Edward tells her to sit down, his mind racing with worry.

He passes out ice cream to moms pushing strollers and teenagers that look a little stoned, giving them upcoming events flyers as they start to walk away. He is very aware of Bella in the corner, staring at her hands almost as if she's willing them to still.

"Are you okay?" he asks and she looks up suddenly, almost as if she had forgotten where she is.

"Oh, yeah, it's…I don't know. I'm sorry," she says quietly, angry at herself.

"It's not a big deal, I mean, don't be sorry," Edward says and he thinks that this is when he should reach out to her, put his hand on hers until the shaking stops. At least that's what he would like to do. His fantasy. Instead, he heads back to the front of the truck as Ben climbs in and they head off to their next location.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"The stomach flu?"

"It's that time of year," Alice sighs.

"I think he sneezed on me the other day," Bella says and Edward watches her inspect herself for sickness. He notices the skin on her left hand is pink and raised, like it's scarred.

"You're fine," Alice laughs and bumps her with her shoulder. Their interactions with each other are easy, like they're old friends finding each other again.

"Since Ben is out," Edward begins. "You'll just work on writing some ads and responding to comments on Twitter."

Bella nods and they make their way to his office, Edward sitting at his desk while Bella sits at the table across from him. She leans in towards the computer and begins, already familiar with this work. As his laptop is booting, he spends a moment to taking in Bella Swan. From her scuffed boots and the way her flannel shirt is so big it almost swallows her up, he's mesmerized. She tucks a strand of chocolate hair behind her ear and bites her lip, her eyes focused on the screen. He's seen her in glasses a few times, but she isn't wearing a pair today.

He wants to know everything about her; she's becoming an obsession that he can't shake. When he's home, he wonders what she's doing, what she's thinking about, what she's listening to.

Instead of asking, he decides to look her up online.

Her profile is sparse, not a lot of information or posts. He notices that her birthday would make her twenty-one and his heart pounds because he's only four years older.

It's not as bad as he thought.

Her picture shows her in the sun, a violin in her hand. She's grinning, wearing a yellow dress with lace trim and her hair barely reaches her shoulders. He wonders how long ago it was taken. She doesn't have any other information listed and maybe has thirty friends. Scrolling to the bottom of the page, she's only had this account for a few months.

There's something off, but he can't ask. She'd run for it. Sue him or something for harassment.

But he can ask, "Are you from Washington?"

She looks up and blinks slowly, her brown eyes wide.

"Um, no, I'm from Arizona actually. "

He thinks about this for a beat. He never would have guessed.

"Oh? That's a big change. How long ago did you move?"

"A few months ago," she says softly and he feels guilty, as if he's asking too many questions. But he can't stop; he needs to know more and more and more.

"Really? For school?"

"Yeah, I was going to ASU but I…I transferred to UW." She won't look at him, but her voice is steadier than it was.

"Must've been an important enough reason to transfer that far," he says so either she'll tell him more, or she'll be off the hook with a simple _yes_ or _no_. The choice is hers.

"You could say that."

He nods. That's enough for now. He looks at the translucent quality of her skin, the way her eyelids are almost purple. He can't imagine her in the desert.

They work silently again until Bella speaks, her voice shaky with laughter.

"If someone tweeted at us to _suck a dick_ can I respond with _only if I can listen to 104.3 while I do it_?"

A laugh escapes him, a true genuine laugh, as he takes in not only what she's said but the way her eyebrow is raised and her cheeks are pink.

"It's your call," he says. He knows he should tell her just to ignore it, but she's too happy right now. He couldn't take that away.

"Good, I already posted it."

He shakes his head at her and she laughs a little more. But then he's thinking about what she's actually said and it makes his stomach flutter and he feels a tug in his groin.

"I'm terrible at this," she says, but her tone is joyful. Edward wants to tell her that she's his favorite intern ever.

"No, you aren't," he tells her instead, and the smile she gives him makes his stomach flip.

Alice's voice comes in through the speakers, signing off for the day and leaving them with an old _Cloud Control_ track.

"Ugh, I love this song," Bella sighs. " _In the night, in the air._ "

The sound of her singing along is enough to break him apart—her soft voice breathes the words and she takes all the air from his lungs.

"It's a good one," he agrees and he hates how strangled his voice sounds.

"If you had to pick the next song, what would you play?" she asks her eyes moving from the computer screen to stare at him while he thinks.

" _The Start of Something_ by _Voxtrot_ ," he tells her because this conversation feels like a beginning. Her eyes light up at his response.

" _I break the law once every week to feel your touch_ ," she sings softly, recognizing the song he's mentioned.

He swallows.

"That's the one."

"It's a good choice. I think I'd do _Closer_ by Teagan and Sara," she says. "Ya know, to lighten the mood."

"Solid choice," he tells her and she beams at the praise while he tries to ignore the fact that it's a song about getting closer, about getting more physical.

This is when Emmett pokes his head in the door, interrupting their flow.

"Emergency," he says and Edward stands up quickly, following him out into the hallway and down to the breakroom.

"What's the emergency?"

"I can't fucking figure out how this coffee maker works. It's like trying to fly a spaceship. And I definitely can't fly a spaceship." He gestures one tattooed arm to the Keurig on the counter while Edward scrubs his face with his hands.

"You literally just put the cup in the top and close it," he explains for what feels like the nine hundredth time.

"Thanks, man; I'm sorry, I'm so out of it. The kid keeps me and Rose up all night."

"It'll pass. He's only two months old, he's gotta sleep sometime," Edward says sympathetically though he rarely sleeps at all himself. Emmett sighs while his coffee starts to brew.

"How's it going with the interns?" he asks, leaning against the counter. Edward's face flushes briefly but Emmett doesn't catch it, he's too focused on his coffee.

"It's good. Ben's out sick today."

"I noticed that. How is Bella?"

 _Incredible, beautiful, ethereal._

"She's a good worker," Edward says.

"I like her," Emmett tells him. "I'm kind of hoping she stays on longer than just this semester."

"Oh yeah?"

"I mean, she's hilarious and cool as hell," Emmett laughs, reaching for the full mug in front of him.

"She is," Edward says softly and Emmett claps him on the back as he exits the room.

"Thanks for your help," Emmett says and Edward goes back to his office, where Bella Swan is packing up her stuff.

Their time flew by today.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asks as she brushes past him, her back softly touching his chest and his whole body feels like it's going through an electrical shock.

"See you tomorrow," he says so softly he isn't sure that she can hear him.

But she turns her head and over her shoulder, she gives him a small smile and a pink flush in her cheeks.

His heart pounds and for the first time in his life, Edward is excited for tomorrow.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Bella Swan's voice is the loudest, cheering and laughing as she passes out flyers for an after party being held at the bar across the street.

Edward can't stop grinning about her and neither can the people filtering past her, out of the venue and into the cool autumn air.

"I'm sorry for screaming at you," she bellows. "But the _Kooks_ just put on an amazing show and I want you to take this piece of paper!"

She's on fire, she's shining bright and everyone can see it. They gravitate to her warmth and her light and the thing is that she doesn't even notice.

Edward knows this because he stood next to her for the _Kooks'_ entire set and she never noticed his eyes on her. She never noticed the stares and the smiles from people around her; she didn't notice that when she cheered, others did too, following her lead.

So, in all honesty, Edward felt very lucky to be so close to her. He loves the _Kooks,_ but he could hardly move his gaze from her at all.

" _I wanna make you happy, I wanna make you feel alive_ ," she sang along and Edward felt emotion swell in his chest. She turned to him then and kept singing, her voice high and clear and it cut him to the bone.

That feeling hasn't gone away as he stands next to her outside. He sees the wind toss her hair around and he wants to tuck it behind her ear.

"High five me!" she calls out but no takers. Ben steps up, giving her one with an amused expression.

"If Ben can do it, you can do it!" And as Edward laughs and laughs and laughs she gets high fived and she giggles uncontrollably.

It's a post-show buzz, a high brought on by the music and the crowd and the joy of _being_. It's only after a show that he feels okay.

But next to Bella Swan and her grin, he feels even better.

He's laughing, high-fiving people too and it's as if her energy is contagious.

When she turns to him, she holds her hand out and he sees small circular scars on her palm. But he high fives her anyway, of course, he does.

He would do anything for contact.

He would do anything to know how she got that raised tissue on her small, warm palm.

The two of them don't notice that they haven't let go of each other's hands and as their eyes make contact, their smiles slowly fade and Edward feels as if his chest is caving in.

But then someone lets out another loud cheer and they're broken out of their bubble.

They let go.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

When Alice suggests meeting up for a beer later, Edward considers saying _no,_ as he usually does. But his roommate is out of town and the thought of spending the night alone sounds like hell.

He's afraid of who he is when he's alone, his own silence echoing off the walls of his home.

So at the dive bar down the street from the station, he feels as if he can breathe with the sounds of life and music and laughter around him.

He watches Alice take big drinks of her Blue Moon while her eyes roam around the room. He thinks that she'd get along really well with his roommate and considers setting them up, but Jasper is hardly ever home.

"I think we might be able to get _the 1975_ to headline for the holiday show," she says, fighting a grin. Alice has been stressing out about this show for months. It's one of their biggest of the year and more than half of what they make from ticket sales goes to the local children's hospital. It's a wonderful event and Edward looks forward to it every year.

"That's amazing, Al," he tells her and he's really struck by how great she is at her job. She puts her all into helping the community and getting bands out there and genuinely loving it all. She worked like hell to get in touch with all of her connections in order to get the lineup that would bring the most ticket sales and she gets no personal financial gain from any of it.

"Isn't it?" she says, beaming at him. "We're going to need to start getting people hyped for this—you know the drill. Vague posts, hints, giveaways."

"I know," Edward tells her because he's done this for tons of shows. He definitely knows the drill.

Alice giggles. "Bella's going to be so excited."

Edward's heart thunders at the sound of Bella's name. "Oh?" He keeps his tone as uninterested as possible.

"Yeah, she loves _the 1975_ , like, a lot. She told me she saw them like four times before she moved here and she's been waiting for them to come."

"You guys talk a lot," he observes softly and tries to suppress his jealousy.

"Yeah, she's a good kid. A lot of issues, but she's good—I can tell."

"Issues?"

"Has she not told you anything?" she asks, her eyebrows pitched upwards in surprise.

"No?"

"Oh, that's weird. You guys seem…close. I figured she would've talked to you."

Edward considers this—he doesn't think of them as particularly close. Though he sees her almost every day and he knows that she's allergic to yellow dye and her favorite movie is _Clueless_ , he doesn't really _know_ her.

Alice shifts her weight nervously as he stares at her. She hadn't anticipated him not knowing anything.

She sees the emotion in his eyes, the worry there. Bella is important to him, there's no doubt about it.

"She's had a bad time," she begins, sighing. Bella had told her everything one evening they met for dinner. Alice likes Bella a lot—so much so that she met her on UW's campus one Saturday morning for coffee and a quick thrift store trip because apparently, Bella Swan had left her desert home in a rush and had no winter clothes.

At all.

Alice relays this to Edward and he can't help but imagine Bella shivering as the weather changes and he wants to give her every coat he owns.

"It was an ex-boyfriend, apparently. Things went sour and she had to get out. She didn't really tell me much, but her whole life is really up in the air right now. She needs something to bring her back down."

Before he can stop himself, he asks, "What else do you know about her?"

Alice stares at him, taking in the ever-present dark circles under his eyes, the way that his auburn hair is always too long and sticking in every direction. Edward's default setting seems to be _sad-lonely-hottie-who-doesn't-know-it_.

He moves to rest his chin in his hand and Alice can't help but check the pale skin of his wrist when his shirtsleeve falls, just slightly. She takes note of the raised lines—the healed scars—but there aren't any new ones. She's never seen any new ones, but she never stops looking anyway.

She sighs, relieved. She wonders if he knows that she worries about him constantly, that she has to stop herself from calling him every evening to make sure he's doing okay.

"Al?" he asks, breaking her out of it and she's momentarily overwhelmed with how _gentle_ he is, there's just something in his demeanor, his softness.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Edward hesitates to ask again, the gap in conversation making it seem awkward to bring up Bella Swan.

"Um, nevermind," he mutters and takes a big drink of his beer and they watch the energy in the room mount with the rising of voices. It's a Thursday night, happy hour specials galore and people beyond happy to be off work. Alice tilts her head to the side, her eyes squinting, thinking.

"You have feelings for her," Alice says, no judgment in her voice. She's just stating a fact, but it makes Edward's face warm and it reddens when she glances at him; her theory is confirmed.

He considers lying to her but what's the use? Alice is probably his best friend. His closest and most trusted confidant.

All he says is, "yeah."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

Edward laughs, though he's horrified by her question. He's honestly never thought about actually acting on those feelings—he's had a few fantasies, sure, but nothing _serious_.

"She's my intern."

Alice shrugs. "Not forever."

Edward's chest constricts because he knows he'll never do anything about it. He takes a drink of his beer and tries to be in the bar, present for the light and the happiness around him rather than think of a brown-eyed girl miles and miles away from him.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Edward can't help but stare at the way Bella Swan taps her feet on the concrete, stretched out in front of them while they sit on the curb, waiting for Emmett. It's a warm day for mid-October and they're taking advantage of the weather to do some cleanup for an environmental organization down by the sound, with which they've just finished. Emmett ran out to do some promotional work for the Holiday Show with Ben and he's supposed to be back by 3:15 but he's never on time.

He's slowly coming to see that Bella's impatient, unable to sit still for more than ten minutes. Edward doesn't want this time to end, he wants to see her tap her feet and tuck hair behind her ear and bite her lip.

The sun is high in the sky and he rolls up the sleeves of his button-down carefully—as he does with everything. He takes his time, fills the seconds for as long as possible because the empty time is frightening to him.

Bella watches him closely, her hand reaching out for his arm and he feels like he could die from the contact.

Her fingers trace the raised scars that mar his wrist, some larger than others and Edward feels his face heat with embarrassment.

He never shows his scars—or if he does, no one says anything about them. When his parents found out about them when he was home for Christmas his junior year of college, his mom cried and his dad insisted he see a psychiatrist.

He kept trying to explain that he wasn't exactly suicidal. In fact, he felt that he was very much the opposite. He took a blade to the pale skin of his wrist every time he felt afraid or too far gone. It reminded him he was still alive, his body was living and it was bleeding to tell him that.

Even now, he finds himself running his fingers over the lines when he needs to feel grounded.

But the psychiatrist clearly saw something wrong with his reasoning and prescribed a slew of medication that made Edward feel strung out, anxious, nauseous, and worst of all, numb.

So after six months of trying to get better, he stopped taking them.

For a brief time, he felt like he could breathe—he applied to intern at the station. His life was coming together.

Of course, that all went to shit.

But he stopped hurting himself. He'd moved past that, he let his wounds heal and raise and turn white.

These mended parts of himself show his weaknesses to the world—no matter how they seem to him.

Bella Swan looks up at him, her eyes wide and he starts to feel panic bubble in his throat. He's such a fucking mess and now she knows it's worse than she probably thought.

"I'm sorry, I –"Edward begins to apologize, but she cuts him off.

"Don't be sorry. These aren't recent," she whispers. "You've moved past it?"

He hesitates and glances at her own damaged hands. She catches this and it makes him burn with shame. She raises it slightly and it trembles.

"I used to play the violin," she says. "I was like, really good at the violin. Best in my youth symphony, best in my high school—I even got this massive scholarship to play in ASU's orchestra. I had an audition for the New York Philharmonic."

Her eyes are glassy with tears but she keeps going and Edward braces himself for the storm brewing in her pause.

"You didn't get it?" he offers and she lets out a breathy laugh.

"I didn't even make it to the audition."

She shakes her head, her eyes shut, but she's got a smile on her face—a smile that she's desperate to keep in place.

"When I was seventeen I started dating James. He was my next-door neighbor, and we did everything together: prom, a joint grad party, we were even living in the same dorm at ASU. Things were good, I mean, they weren't great, but his dad was in rehab and his sister was heading down the same path and he was going through a lot. My impending audition and potential move across the country wasn't helping any.

He was drinking a lot—going out every weekend and was getting into drugs, too and things just…weren't how they were."

She holds her palms out, examining the scars, her eyes not moving from them as she continues, her voice calmer. "He…the day before I was supposed to leave for my audition he…was really fucked up and he was smoking and…"

She trails off, but Edward can piece it together. _He used her palms as an ashtray_. His stomach is sick and he wants to pull her into his arms and keep all of her broken pieces together.

"I couldn't make a fist let alone hold a violin and play a fucking song. But it's fine—you know? I'm fine. I left. My dad lives close to Vancouver so I came out here and I like it. I like Seattle. It's different and I needed different."

"Bella," Edward says quietly and her eyes dart to his as she goes back to tracing the lines on his arm.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that scars aren't something to be sorry for; they show how far we've come. They show that we've moved on from big parts of our lives—the good and the bad. I'm sorry, I probably just told you way more than was appropriate for this working relationship but…I just, I don't want you to be sorry."

And as her warm fingers run up and down the sensitive skin on his forearm, her eyes fierce, Edward suddenly feels like he's going to cry—something he hasn't done in years. Emotion is swelling in his chest and rising up his throat and his eyes are burning because this beautiful girl with her owndreadful past is telling him that everything is going to be okay.

She leans into him, the side of her body tentatively covering his and his eyes drift closed, reveling in her soft warmth. He prays that she can't feel his heart thundering and he tries his best to keep his breathing even.

He lets himself imagine them together in a movie theater, her laugh in his ear and his hand covering hers. He sees them lying in bed early in the morning, kissing softly and murmuring to each other delicately.

Oh, god, he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her lips, her forehead, her palms.

But a car horn is suddenly blaring and his eyes fly open as Bella practically leaps to her feet.

It's Emmett.

Of course, it's Emmett.

"'Get in losers, we're going shopping.'"

His quote gets a nervous smile from Bella, and Edward tries his best to keep the grimace off his face.

He checks his watch.

For the first time ever, Emmett is right on time.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Ben, did you start posting the clues for the openers?"

"Yes, I just put the first one up on Instagram."

"For _Rozwell Kid_ right?"

"Right."

Edward can tell that Ben is getting sick of his anxious questions. They're supposed to find out by tomorrow if they got _the 1975._ Their management is being really vague and unresponsive and everyone is on edge.

If this doesn't work out, they're fucked.

Edward tugs a hand through his hair and makes eye contact with Bella across the room. She's bent over a table set up in their live room, helping Alice with some of the graphic design work. She gives him a small smile and raises her eyebrows and he can't stop his own grin and the acceleration of his heart.

When she winks at him, he nearly comes undone.

Alice looks up then, at Bella's sly smile and Edward trying to keep himself calm and she shakes her head.

Now is not the time.

He laughs anxiously to himself—when will it ever be?

"Phone call for you, Alice," one of the teenaged, part-time interns calls from the front desk and Alice practically leaps from her chair and runs down the hall. Edward starts his way across the room, taking her place.

"These look really cool," he says, examining the graphics on the screen and Bella grins at him. They look like ugly, goth Christmas sweaters and it's definitely something she made.

"Thanks, I took a few courses at ASU in Vis Comm so it's cool to actually have those come in handy."

"Random," he mutters and she bumps his arm with her shoulder.

"At least it's not the Russian Literature, Tolstoy."

"It was the only one open!" he laughs defensively. "I needed it to graduate!"

"Whatever," she shrugs and her smile is teasing.

"I regret even talking to you about my time at UW."

"But I learned so much," she says and he doesn't miss the sarcastic note in her voice. He's ready to come back at her with another snarky comment, but Alice is in the doorway, her arms waving wildly and jumping up and down.

"It's confirmed!" she shrieks. " _The 1975_ are officially playing the Holiday Show!"

The room erupts in cheers and Bella Swan is clapping and whooping and somehow ends up with her arms around Edward's neck, his arms circling her waist and they are spinning in circles, laughing and cheering and as Alice is talking about ordering a pizza and Emmett is going over logistics on his computer. Bella and Edward slow to a stop, but neither lets go of the other. Their eyes are locked and Bella's chest is heaving, her teeth sucking on her bottom lip. She tilts her head and Edward feels an electric current in every nerve ending in his body. They're moving closer and closer to each other, the din in the room still loud with techs and interns and jocks celebrating, but neither of them notice anything but each other.

Bella inhales sharply and exhales, "Edward."

It's like a bucket of cold water—he lets go of her immediately.

He can't kiss his intern in a crowded room while both of them are at work.

Can you say _lawsuit waiting to happen_?

"I…" he begins but never finishes his sentence because he's fast walking down the hall and to his office, locking the door behind him and trying to figure out what the fuck to do.

He wants her—he wants her more than he's ever wanted anyone or anything in his life.

But he can't have her. Not just because of the work thing but because how could he _deserve_ her? He wouldn't have anything to give—he doesn't have anything left.

He waits for the numbness to wash over him as he stares at the bottle of pills in his backpack.

Instead, his heart keeps beat, beat, beating.

If he died, he'd never see her smile or hear her make fun of him ever again.

Is it better to _pine_ for her and never have her? Or just end it all here and now?

It does not escape his notice that she's essentially the only thing that keeps him going anymore.

His only reason for waking up in the mornings, for dragging himself out of bed is because, in a few hours, her laugh will float into his office. She makes sure he eats lunch—always bringing two of whatever she's having and when she asks her customary _see you tomorrow,_ he can't lie to her. He has to keep coming back.

And because of that, he takes two of his pills and agonizes over her in his office for the rest of the day, knowing that as long as she's in the world, he probably will be too.

'

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's the morning of announcing that _the 1975_ is going to be headlining and Alice has been slipping some of their tracks—and some tracks from the year 1975—into her playlist, which Bella comments on as clever and Edward shrugs. He doesn't tell her that he suggested that Alice do that. He doesn't mention that he picked out the songs especially for her.

She laughs with Ben in the back of the truck while _Hot Chocolate's_ _You Sexy Thing_ is blasting through the speakers. She dances around and he rolls his eyes good-naturedly as they pull up to the site for the Halloween Dash. They're here to promote the show, do giveaways, schmooze, whatever.

Both interns are used to the drill—more than halfway done with the semester and their time at the station. In two months, Edward will be introduced to new college kids looking for experience.

The thought makes his stomach churn.

"Oh my god, it's time," Bella calls right as they're parking in a row with food trucks and giveaway tents.

"Okay, here it is," Alice's voice calls out and Ben turns the dial to the right, amplifying her joy for everyone around us to hear.

"I am _so_ excited to announce that _the 1975_ are headlining this year's Holiday Show! Tickets go on sale next Friday at 10 am, but we'll be giving some away throughout the week! Our promo team is at the Halloween Dash right now—if you're there enter for a chance to win!"

Bella and Ben high-five at the shout out and Alice's voice fades into a track from the newly announced headline.

"Okay, let's start unloading," Edward says handing Ben the folding table while Bella smiles shyly at him as she picks up the tablecloths.

They've kept their distance over the last week or so. Ever since Edward ran away from their almost…whatever, he's been trying his best to avoid being alone with her.

"I love this song," she murmurs and he agrees, though halfheartedly.

" _We've got one thing in common, it's this tongue of mine,"_ she sings along and Edward practically pushes her out of the van for the sake of his last shreds of sanity. Her voice haunts him day and night.

He should probably fire her or her something but knows he never ever could.

This sunny girl with the warm eyes and smile and heart who has every reason to be cynical is singing along to a song called _Sex_ with a smile on her face as she sets out fliers and sunglasses. Ben watches her with an uncomfortable but amused expression on his face.

He just doesn't get it.

Ben only sees this happy, weird girl who has no clear path in life.

To him, she's going nowhere, she's practically a drifter.

Edward knows the truth, though.

He knows that Bella Swan is a bright light burning in the world and Ben Cheney doesn't even fucking _realize_ how lucky he is to be this close to her.

The thing that bothers Edward the most, though, is that Ben Cheney could probably ask her out on a date if he wanted to. He could meet her family and buy her a ring someday.

He's someone that Bella Swan would never have to worry about when she finds bottles of pills out on the bathroom counter.

He'd just taking his vitamins, his supplements, his blood pressure medication.

Not spending hours staring at them lined up in front of him, mentally counting how many he could take before darkness falls over him.

Edward would like to think that he could change for her—but he isn't confident in that darker part of himself.

He looks at her hair blowing in the breeze, the rest of her bundled in a gray 104.3 hoodie that he lent her weeks ago when they were having problems with the air conditioning at the station.

He wonders if it will smell like her when she gives it back and can't decide which one he'd be able to deal with better.

As people begin to filter past, Bella charms them, gets them to sign up for everything she can. As Edward does the supervising, the contact with the station, his bones practically ache towards the girl making tired runners and their supporters eat out of the palm of her hand.

He sees her make little kids laugh with goofy faces and teen girls wish they were her best friend.

Unable to help himself, he takes a picture of her and sends it to Alice. Just a quick snapshot of Bella with her hands in the air, sunglasses on, singing a terrible parody to some _Taylor Swift_ song as she tries to get people to come spin the prize wheel.

Alice sends back, _she's incredible. I love her._

Edward thinks that maybe he does, too.

"Edward!" she's calling him over to where she stands with a tall blonde woman, that brilliant smile on her face. When he reaches her, she puts a small, warm hand on his arm.

"Lauren has a question about tickets for the Holiday Show and I figured you would know more about it than I would," she says and Lauren's question is simple, but Edward struggles to answer it because Bella's hand is burning on his skin.

Once Lauren is satisfied with his response and her hands are full of flyers, Bella keeps her grip on his arm, looking intently at his face as if she's memorizing every detail.

"Thanks for your help," she breathes and there's a tug in his abdomen.

"Bella, I…" he begins but doesn't quite know how to end his sentence.

 _I think about you all the time._

 _I want to buy you flowers and make you laugh on rainy days._

 _I might most definitely love you._

He settles on, "I'm really glad you've been working here."

Her eyes shine in the sunlight.

"Me too."

Without permission or warning or pretense, his fingers ghost her cherry red cheeks and they're both letting out a shaky breath. He sees a whole future with her flash behind his eyes.

He's never been able to feel as if he has a future at all.

Until _her_.

Gathering his bearings, Edward jerks his hand back to his side and Bella's eyes widen in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his brow furrowed and heart pounding. She stares at him with heavy lids and parted lips, her fingers squeezing his for just a second.

"I'm not. I'm going to get something to drink. You want a Dr. Pepper?"

He nods, stunned and flushed as he realizes that she remembers his favorite soda and she's not running for the hills at the contact.

She walks away with her hips swaying and hair shimmering, the faintest trace of a smirk thrown over her shoulder while she disappears into the crowd.

It's that exact moment that Edward finally admits that he's in deep, _deep_ shit.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

10:29 AM.

Edward's leg bounces up and down under his desk. Ben sits on the futon, iPad in front of him, paying no attention to the fact that Bella Swan is twenty-nine minutes late.

He feels panic creep up his spine as he checks his phone for the eight-hundredth time for any sign of her.

Nothing.

At 10:54 AM, he asks Ben if he's heard from her and he just shrugs, his eyes never leaving the screen in front of him.

He sends her a text once the clock strikes 12. _Is everything okay? Are you coming in today?_

For the next two hours, his phone doesn't ring or buzz or anything—it sits dark on his desk while he anxiously drums his fingers next to it.

"Hey, I'm heading out," Alice calls as she peeks her head in between the door and its frame. Edward's head jerks up at the sound. He sent Ben home a while ago, too anxious to give him anything else to work on.

Alice's forehead creases. "What's wrong?"

"Has Bella talked to you recently?"

Alice is hyperaware of the way his voice cracks as she steps inside, pressing her back against the door as it closes.

"No, not since Friday," she tells him, her eyes following the way his shoulders are tense with anxiety, the way those deep green irises stare at her, almost pleading for help.

"I'm sure she's okay," she assures him and she tries not to check her watch. She has a dinner with her parents tonight but needs to meet with the venue manager to make sure everything is set for the Holiday show next week. She's too distracted, too busy to notice how unusual it is to not see or hear from Bella Swan.

Edward, of course, is very aware of how unusual it is.

" _I'll see you Monday?_ " she had asked, pausing at his desk instead of the doorframe like she usually did. Over the last month, she's been even more of a fixture in his life. As Ben is seeing the end of his internship coming, he's been pulling away while Bella seems to be holding on for dear life. She hasn't mentioned staying on, but she wants to—it's obvious.

" _Have a good weekend, Bella,_ " he told her softly and she grinned, wishing him the same.

He doesn't know what he did wrong. He wants to ask Alice, he wants to confess that he fell in love with an intern and she's probably halfway to Timbuktu because, _what the fuck did he think would happen?_

Bella has realized that he's too fucked up, that it's too much, that she needs to make him quit her cold turkey.

"I'm…I'm going home," he says quietly, his eyes downcast and Alice just nods, already dialing her phone. Edward grabs his backpack and he remembers that he'd made Bella a mixed CD. The bag weighs shamefully on his back.

When he gets back to his apartment, he throws the disc away.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Edward knows that he can't overdose on Xanax, but it's the only thing in his medicine cabinet so he stares at it for the rest of the afternoon.

He feels the emptiness creep into his chest.

Of course, Bella Swan would be a trigger for this. He hasn't had an episode in months, but now he can practically feel her warmth and light seeping out of him, leaving him cold and alone and lost.

Around six, there's a knock on his bedroom door. It's rare for Edward and Jasper to both be home at the same time so once Jasper knocks, Edward considers getting out of bed.

He only considers it for a moment, though.

"You okay, man? Wanna grab some dinner?" Jasper asks, his voice muffled by the barrier between them. Along with his southern twang, Edward hears apprehension in his voice. As roommates in college, Jasper was good about ignoring the bloody tissues in the trashcan and keeping tabs on what medications meant what—and if they could cause a fatal overdose. He was there for the times that Edward felt like talking about it, no matter how few and far between those moments were.

He can recognize the signs—the locked door, the silence, the missing pills from the bathroom cabinet.

"I'm ordering a pizza," he says and as he walks away, he adds "the good stuff, from Gino's."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Edward's phone rings a little after nine o'clock.

He's sitting on the couch, eating meat lover's pizza and trying to focus on whatever commentary Jasper has going on about the basketball game on TV, which is difficult because Edward hates basketball.

But then his phone is buzzing from its spot on the coffee table and he's bracing himself for an extensive conversation with his mom since she's the only one who calls him.

He doesn't even check the screen before he sighs a tired _hello_.

"E-Edward?"

His heart sinks and hammers at the same time.

"Bella?"

There's a long exhale on her end.

"Is the s-station open right now? Is anybody there?" Her voice is garbled. She sounds small.

"Um, the night jock is there but he's in his studio. Why?"

And then Bella Swan starts to cry.

"Where are you?" he pleads, getting up suddenly and Jasper turns the TV off, concern evident on his face as he watches Edward throw on his sneakers.

"I'm at the—I'm at the station."

"I'll be there in ten."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Bella Swan is huddled under the awning, his 104.3 sweatshirt wrapped around her small frame. She jumps at the sight of his headlights and he practically runs to her, flying out of the car before it actually even stops.

She throws herself against him when he kneels in front of her and he catches a glimpse of a torn sleeve of the gray hoodie.

She's crying so much and the sound feels like it could break him apart, piece by painful piece.

"I didn't know where else to go," she wails as his arms circle around her, putting a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

She looks up at him then, her wet eyes glowing under the street lamp and he sees bruises forming on her cheeks and blood clotting on her lips.

"Bella, _what happened_?" His fingers touch the swelling around her eye and she flinches, just slightly and her breathing becomes shallower.

"J-James," she gasps and clings to him harder.

Her ex.

 _Her ex._

Edward is enraged. He's ready to break every bone in this kid's body. He's ready to fucking kill him.

"Come on," he grinds out and her eyes widen at his tone. He pulls her to her feet and towards his car, needing to get her somewhere warm and somewhere safe. Plus, if he leaves her side for even a second, he knows he won't be able to stop himself from hunting James down at all costs.

Once he gets her in the passenger side, she curls back up in a ball as he goes to the driver's seat, cranking the heat and peeling out of the parking lot.

"Edward?" she croaks and he glances at her, trying to focus on the dark, slick road ahead. He's got to keep her safe. "Thank you. For…coming to get me."

Edward doesn't trust his voice enough to speak—he only shakes his head, because for once in his life, he isn't calculating his own death—instead he's planning someone else's. Bella watches the way his knuckles turn white with his grip on the wheel and the deep furrow in his brow. When Edward feels her hand on his elbow, his eyes start to burn with tears.

This sweet, beautiful girl is _broken_ and crying and she's still trying to make _him_ feel better.

She's shaking when his headlights shine over his apartment—a small duplex looking building that's kind of falling apart. He opens the car door for her and she loops her arm with his and his heart pounds. He can't stop it because even through their wet, cold clothes he can feel the heat of her skin.

Jasper is standing in the kitchen when they open the door and his eyes dart to Bella because how could they not?

"Is everything-?"

Edward cuts him off with a shake of his head. Bella shivers next to him.

"Here, let's get you some dry clothes," Edward says softly and he leads her upstairs to his room, trying to remember if he has dirty cloths strewn all over the place. Thankfully, there's nothing. The only sign that someone's been in there at all is the rumpled quilt on his bed. He's ashamed of it and of the pill bottle on his nightstand.

Bella glances around and Edward opens his dresser drawers, trying to find something that might fit her. He settles on a wool sweater, thick socks, and his old, track warm up sweats from high school. She smiles weakly at him when he hands the pile of fabric to her, his face most likely burning red.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"I'll um, let you get changed," he chokes out and slips outside into the hall, closing the door behind him.

He calls Alice.

"Hello?"

"Alice, you…you need to come to my place."

"It's Bella, isn't it?" He can hear her moving around on the other end of the line, pacing and throwing stuff around.

"It's bad, Al."

"I'm leaving now, send me your address."

As soon as he does, the door opens and Bella Swan is standing in front of him with damp hair, wearing his clothes.

In any other context, he'd be _extremely_ turned on.

But as he takes in her swollen face and her bloodshot eyes and her nervous glances, he only wants to help. He'd do anything to make it better.

"Alice is on her way," he murmurs and she nods, her lips parted as if she wants to speak, but there's only silence.

He hates the way his voice cracks when he asks, "Can I do anything for you?"

"Can I lay down for a little bit?"

"Oh, oh yeah, go ahead—you can use my bed, I'll just…"

Edward stares at her red-faced, stumbling over his words. She looks up at him through those thick, dark lashes as she makes one request.

Her voice is so soft, he isn't entirely sure that he hears her.

"Will you stay with me?"

His eyes close.

"I know it's…not appropriate," she whispers. "But I…I can't be alone."

He'd do anything for her—anything she'd ever ask of him and so he follows her back into the room and watches her tangle herself in his sheets, her hair fanning out on his pillow. He's perched tentatively at the foot of the bed, wanting nothing more than to curl himself around her.

But he doesn't.

He listens to the sound of her breathing as she drifts to sleep, his head in his hands, himself exhausted. His adrenaline rush is starting to fade and he's losing momentum. A headache begins to seep into the space behind his eyes.

Suddenly his bedroom door is flying open and Alice is standing in its place, her hair dripping wet as she takes in the scene in front of her: Edward's pained expression, his protective stance over a sleeping Bella.

Her worry for the girl is momentarily forgotten as she fully recognized what's happened—when she realizes that Edward _loves_ that small, damaged girl.

"Oh," Alice sighs and Jasper clears his throat behind her.

"She just kind of…came inside," he says with a shrug, eyeing the woman in front of him with an amused look.

"It was an emergency," Alice counters, not even bothering to turn to him. "I'll take her back to my place. We'll probably need to call her parents and get her looked at by a doctor and just…figure out what happened."

Edward feels panic tighten in his chest at the thought of her leaving.

"I can come, too," he offers and Alice shakes her head.

"We'll be okay," she assures him as she moves to the girl in the bed, ready to wake her.

Too much has happened today, he needs to get some sleep and some space.

But Edward doesn't get any sleep—he spends his time in his room, trying to hold onto to the warmth and the scent she's left in his sheets.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

According to Alice, Bella Swan's ex-boyfriend showed up at her studio apartment right as she was leaving for work. She'd had a restraining order put on him when she'd left Arizona, so when she threatened to call the police; he'd taken her phone and pulled her back inside.

He was on something, that was clear, and he kept claiming that he'd kill her—that it would be easy for him to snap her neck.

She was unsure of what to do—she let him yell at her, let him kiss her; let him bruise her until he needed more coke. His nose started to bleed and in his distraction with trying to stop it, she broke a half-empty bottle of red wine over his head and grabbed her cell from his back pocket.

Then she ran to the only place she could think of, the only place in the whole city.

The station.

Edward.

"She's fine," Alice tells him as they sip coffee in the breakroom. "Nothing's broken. And we called her dad who's apparently a cop and he was _livid_. That James guy was still passed out in her apartment when the Seattle PD got there. I mean, he had hard drugs on him _and_ he violated a restraining order. He's fucked."

"Shit," Emmett sighs, letting out a low whistle.

"Where is she now?" Edward chimes in, his voice raspy.

"Her dad's place in Vancouver. I don't know how long she'll be there."

He nods and tries to pretend as though he isn't falling apart on the inside.

 _She's not coming back_.

He'll never hear her sweet voice asking if she'll see him tomorrow.

He's flooded with self-loathing because he's selfish enough to have those thoughts.

"We gotta keep moving, though," Alice says kindly. "We only have a week left until the show."

He nods but his heart isn't in it.

His heart is in another city, far away from him.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Edward is used to numbness. It's been a while since he's been clouded with it, but he recognizes its familiar way of making it hard for him to get out of bed.

When Jasper asks him for Alice's phone number on Tuesday night, he reads it off without the dead stare leaving his eyes.

He writes promotions for the show and throws away all of his razors so they'll stop tempting him.

On the day of the show, he watches Alice interview one of the opening bands and as she cracks jokes, he tries to stop a train of thought that takes him to tomorrow—the day when this whole process will be done and he won't be needed anymore.

Maybe tomorrow he'll buy some new razors.

He manages to hide in the back offices of the venue for most of it, manning social media and avoiding Emmett and Alice's occasional nervous glances.

Ben wanders in and out, asking if Edward needs any help, but he just shrugs him off.

"Go watch the show, just make sure you're outside before the encore."

Alice stops in to let him know that she's about to go introduce the first act and he takes it as his cue to start taking photos of the crowd and the performances.

He sees the excited kids in the audience as he makes his way to the middle and he hears _Rozwell Kid_ 's heavy drumbeat.

It helps a little, he feels himself begin to thaw, but it's fleeting because as soon as they finish their set, his throat is tight and he feels like he will never be able to breathe ever again.

He misses Bella Swan so much that he thinks it will probably kill him if he doesn't kill himself first.

His thoughts of tomorrow begin to take root.

By the time _the 1975_ step onto the stage, he's convinced that they will be the last act he'll ever see. He wants to drown in it—in every beat, in every drunken sway of the lead singer, in every cheer from the people around him.

Their high-energy songs begin to fade into slow synths and melancholy vocals and he thinks that he wants this to be the last song he ever hears.

He thinks that maybe he'll head home early tonight.

" _Oh I was thinking 'bout killing myself, don't you mind,  
I love you, don't you mind don't you mind."_

"Don't you mind, Bella Swan," he says to himself under his breath. And as the song dwindles, he turns his back to the stage, to the screams, to that foolish thought that his life would ever be more than this.

But then, she's there.

Bella is in front of him, her smile wide and her hair curled and in her face and she's in this red dress and gold tights and scuffed up tap shoes.

"Hi," she yells over the crowd and he tries to speak but his mouth won't form the words.

His heart pounds as she steps around people to reach him, her grin never faltering.

"What are you doing here?" he sputters, finally.

She lets out a laugh.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world—plus, I have some finals I need to take."

"Oh." Her voice, her eyes, her fading bumps and bruises. "I just figured after what happened…"

She sighs. "I mean, yeah that was shitty and it shook me up pretty bad, but I'm not going to let one person—no matter how psycho they are—ruin my life anymore. It's over, it's done, there's no use dwelling on it, you know?"

"You're unbelievable," he says, truly amazed by this woman in front of him. She waves a hand, dismissing it.

"I just don't want to waste my time being afraid. It's hard but…I want to believe things are always going to be okay."

And as the song changes, the beat changing and lifting the sound higher and higher, the drum beat, beat, beating in time with his heart, he can't help but wonder that maybe she's right.

"You need to shave," she yells, her fingers running softly over the stubble that's well on its way to becoming a beard.

"I don't have any razors," he admits and her eyes dart to his wrist before coming back to his face.

"Good. I'm…I'm glad."

"Me too."

"I love this song," she tells him, her breath in his ear. "It makes me feel light—like I can do anything."

"Oh yeah?"

"Doesn't it make you feel like that? Like the guitars and his voice? Don't you feel _alive_?"

Tears burn in his eyes as he turns to watch her smile and sing along to the chorus because he was so close to missing _this_.

This moment almost never happened, he almost threw it away. If he had tried to leave a few minutes earlier or if she had gone to the other side of the stage then he'd be half way to bleeding out in his bright, white bathroom.

The universe presented him with this perfectly timed song, girl, and breath.

He feels alive.

He feels like things can get better; that against all odds, the girl can still come back.

"Get out of your head, Edward," she tells him, deciding he's been thinking too much instead of focusing on the show going on in front of them. "Stop dwelling, let it go, move forward, _be_."

Her hand grips his fingers, lifting his hand in the air and spinning herself as if they're dancing.

" _It takes a bit more, yeah it takes a bit more than you,"_ she's screaming and he's laughing, Edward Cullen is _laughing._

The song is ending, the show is ending. He has to go outside now and he isn't sure if Bella is going to follow.

Everyone is cheering, screams and whistles and _I love you_ s are being thrown around left and right while Bella Swan is red-faced and grinning at him, her fingers still wrapped around his.

The moment is almost gone—he wants to stop thinking, he wants to do as she's said.

He wants to just _be_.

So as she makes her way closer to him, her eyes so sunny that it hurts to look at her, he tugs on her arm until their chests are flush together and her breathing hitches.

He tells her, "You're the brightest star in the universe. You're a galaxy, you're the world, you're…you're the best person I've ever met."

He wants to add that she gave him reasons to get out of bed in the morning, that she gave him reasons to keep living and almost gave him reasons to give up.

Instead, he uses a tentative hand to cup her cheek and his body hums with anticipation when her eyes flutter closed.

When he kisses her, he feels his world end and begin again, he feels stars exploding and heat building as her tongue swipes over his lip and her hand tangles itself in his hair.

He can't get close enough—his arms wrap around her as tightly as he can and her feet leave the ground and he doesn't want to break apart to catch his breath—he hopes this kiss kills him because nothing else in his life could ever top this moment.

But when Bella pulls away, they're both alive and gasping for air, chests heaving against each other.

She smirks.

"Way to _be_."

His lips find hers again, just to show her that he can.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"You're listening to the _Sunday Brunch_ on 104.3. This is Edward here to tell you to keep it here for a special recorded, live performance from _Local Natives_ , coming to you in under five minutes."

Edward puts a sponsored message on while he goes to open the window. It's a beautiful day for late August—not too hot or humid, just a few clouds in the sky. He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a contented sigh.

In April, he'd finally given in to Alice constantly nagging him about being a jock—starting off with their weekly _Sunday Brunch_ spot, a time dedicated to a different theme as the days change. This particular day is focusing on live performances made in their studio and he's hoping that it's going well.

He still isn't sure of himself—he still doesn't know what he's doing, but he _is_ doing it.

The door opens and the newest head of promotions sticks her head in before stepping into the room completely, her chestnut hair swinging over her shoulder while her navy dress follows suit, dancing around her bare knees.

"They're loving this block, Edward," Bella says, holding out her phone as if he can see it from ten feet away. "You're getting like six request for something from _Rozwell Kid_ from when they were here in December."

"I'll put it on the queue. Are you heading out?"

Bella nods and he wishes she were closer so he could press his lips to her goofy smile.

"Don't forget—Alice and Jasper are coming over for dinner tonight. I invited Emmett, but he said he has to check with his sitter."

"I know," he laughs because she's reminded him about this almost every hour for two days.

She makes her way over to him with delicate steps, staying just long enough to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek, before she's back at the door.

She throws over her shoulder, "I'll see you at home?"

He smiles.

"See you at home."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **wow, thank you SO much for reading. i'd love to hear your thoughts.**

 **ps. all of the music mentioned in this is AWESOME. i'm not biased bc it's a certified fact.**

 **xoxo,**

 **meg**


End file.
